


Night's Comforts

by Siver



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: 100 Fandoms, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FFVI AU, FFVI GT AU, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-19 01:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17591762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Still trapped on a lone island, Cidgeon worries and a late night brings some unexpected comforts.FFVI AU during their time on the Solitary Island after the world fell to ruin





	Night's Comforts

**Author's Note:**

> Done for The 100 Multifandom Challenge on Dreamwidth. Prompt: Sleeping  
> AKA an excuse for more self-indulgent island time.
> 
> Further context in [series notes](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1169099)
> 
> Originally part of FFVI/GT AU series, older fic rendered obsolete by [Solitude](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400759)

Cidgeon eased himself up the stairs and quietly closed the door behind him. His gaze fell on Cabanela’s sleeping form on the bed and he nodded with satisfaction.

The first morning Cabanela had woken as normal had been more relieving than Cidgeon cared to admit. It wasn’t as though he could reasonably expect Cabanela to fall right back into that coma, and yet… and yet.

Naturally the relief wasn’t to last by itself as exasperation quickly overtook it. The boy needed sleep, normal restful sleep, for a given amount of ‘rest’. At this point Cidgeon would take anything, but getting him to agree was a lesson in pulling chocobo teeth. Too damn stubborn for his own good—always had been, always would be.

Cidgeon found himself at Cabanela’s bedside and stared down at him. It was easier to get a handle on his state in sleep. During the day he swung wildly between a deep seething anger and a listlessness he never thought he’d see in him of all people.

In truth sleep painted a picture that was no more comforting. Before this past year he hadn’t truly seen _him_ in over two years. Hardly a great deal of time in the grand scheme of things yet it may as well have been several years for what he found. Without the inner fire that overrode all else during waking hours, he saw a man aged and worn in too much grey and lines and wrinkles that had no business being there yet.

They hadn’t been kind to their slave. The swell of anger and regret rose once more. He should have stopped him. He should have been able to help him when he needed it most. If Vector still stood, he would see to it that not all of it would remain.

Cabanela turned his head with a low groan, the furrows in his brow deepening. Cidgeon turned away. There was still water in the kettle and he stoked the fire. Just in case.

As predicted by the time the water heated and he fetched a mug, Cabanela sat up. Cidgeon brought him the mug. It wasn’t much but the comfort of heat and old routines were better than nothing.

“Bad dreams?” he asked as he passed Cabanela the mug.

“Suppose,” Cabanela replied distantly and cupped the mug close.

It was more of an answer than expected and still not very informative. Typical. Cabanela looked toward the window, then abruptly passed the mug back to Cidgeon, swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his cane.

Cidgeon frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Going outside.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Exaaactly.”

Cidgeon sighed and returned the mug to the desk as Cabanela stood and steadied himself. Better to let him get whatever he was thinking over with than waste time arguing. He helped him outside only to get a few steps away from the door before Cabanela stopped and stared up.

“They’re still there.”

Cidgeon looked up as well. It was pitch black, but if he looked long enough he could just make out the faint pin pricks of stars.

“Some things haven’t chaaanged.” Cabanela shifted his weight and pointed. "Loook. Part of the Phoenix.”

Cidgeon tried to follow his direction. He thought he could make out something, but he’d have to take Cabanela’s word for it along with knowledge of where the constellation ought to be and Cabanela’s better eyes.

“They were all so clear from Figaro,” Cabanela said, his voice distant again. “The whooole sky sparkled.” A firmer note entered his voice. “We will see them again.”

It didn’t take a genius to know who ‘we’ meant. He made an affirmative noise, unsure of what else there was to say. Cabanela seemed lost in his own world until a shiver ran through him. No surprise; there was a chill and sharp bite to the air.

“Come on,” Cidgeon said firmly. “It’s cold and you need sleep.”

Cabanela lingered a few seconds more before turning and following Cidgeon inside. Maybe the outing had done him some good. Cidgeon expected an argument but Cabanela went back to bed without a word.

He slumped back into his pillow, turned his head toward the window, and slept the rest of the night.


End file.
